Wrong Side of Town
by Hidden Behind the Name
Summary: Society was broken into two parts: the rich and the poor. After losing their parents, Alfred and Matthew find themselves stealing in the streets to survive in the poor side. Without the help of a rich friend named Francis, they'd die. They're able to get by until Matthew meets a rich boy who happens to own the biggest North American company.
1. Thief

Theft in the poor side of the city was common. When the sirens began their solemn wailing, the residents merely heaved a sigh and shuffled into the run down shacks they called their homes. Even more common was the need to press oneself as flat against the wall as possible to avoid being run into by the latest thief who thought they could outrun the law. The people of the town only cursed and shouted, but otherwise went about their days normally without so much as batting an eye.

Although, one of these petty thieves often earned himself a dark glare. That thief was busy on that dark November night trying to evade those tasked with bringing back his head.

"Damn it!" the young thief cried angrily, almost slamming into a poor woman who dropped her wares in trying to dodge the young man. He ducked past her, his shoulder slamming hard into the metal wall beside them, a bullet whizzing by them that hit a crate and caused shards to fly. The man swore once more as he continued to run.

"Stop in the name of the law, criminal!" a metallic voice thundered behind him, eliciting a scream from the innocent woman who had likely been shoved aside. The thief darted down a side street, pulling himself up onto a ledge provided by a low window sill. He looked back in time to see his pursuer, a large steel being, racing toward him on its single wheel.

Swiftly, he climbed the wall until the robot was almost directly beneath him before dropping down so his foot went through its protective glass or plastic shield, he didn't know which, so his thick boot collided with the internal processor. The metal groaned and creaked while the circuitry gave off angry sparks. The robot crashed to the ground, a hunk of useless metal. Alfred fell with it, landing on his back and side. It wrung a groan from his lips as he freed his foot.

'_Damn robots are getting better...'_ he thought as he carefully extracted his foot, shaking off the gravel, glass, and metal that stubbornly clung to his clothing. He looked down at the robot, noticing the way thick lines, which would light up green while online, carved through the frame forming a pattern of light that would shower the dark streets to make it easier to find the criminals hiding in the shadows. The design had become sleeker; earlier models had been massive things almost too big to fit between the buildings of the alleyways that thieves preferred over the open streets. Its head was made of clear, curved glass which was meant to protect the controls tucked within. The horrid sirens, which haunted the thoughts of the people whose families were ripped away by the machines, were set deep in the robot's shoulders so they barely peeked over the outer armour. They disgusted the boy.

The wail of another monster machine approaching rapidly made him give the robot at his feet a kick before taking off. He couldn't help but grin, knowing that the police would never catch him. His pockets were heavy with stolen goods which promised a good week, at least. Rent could be paid, food could be purchased, which meant he had done well. Now all he could hope for was that the buyer would give him good profit for his work…

His thoughts were interrupted as a whoop broke through the air, making him jump. He ducked into the shadows. A young man moved into the alley, a long jacket hiding his bulky frame and a thick scarf wrapped around his face to keep his features from being recognized. Hair the color of metal hung over striking purple eyes which gazed out at the dark street coldly. The thief seeking refuge in the darkness stepped out, a grin already lighting his grimy face. The taller man smiled.

"_Privet_, Alfred," he said cheerily. His voice, laced thickly with the accent of a resident of Russia had not faded over time. It seemed lighter than normal. Alfred's grin got wider.

"Ivan! What're you doing here? I thought you were staying home! I had to do it by myself today!"

"Katyusha said she would take care of Natalia. I could go."

Alfred's hand moved subconsciously to his pocket and slipped inside, his fingers grazing his unlawfully gained goods. He and Ivan always split their earnings, since both of them had siblings to care for. Ivan had done no stealing throughout the day, so Alfred would have to give up half of his day's work; it left a bitter taste in his mouth as he dug out a good handful of valuables. Ivan's eyes shifted to the younger man's coat.

"I took some as well," he offered casually. Relief made Alfred's shoulders slump. They went through their normal routine of trading the stolen goods until they had roughly the same amount. The young men moved through the city, carefully staying out of sight as they walked toward their buyer's store. They had worked together for so long that conversation was pointless and dangerous. Neither could afford to be thrown into jail where their siblings would suffer without their providers.

Upon trading in their wares for what meager earnings they could, the two young men went their separate ways. Alfred watched Ivan's tall form disappear in the direction of the local at-risk shelter before running off in the opposite direction toward home.

* * *

The poor district was divided into sections as if someone had taken a marker and scribbled in borders. The district where the worst of the worst lived, if they could be called that, lived within towering walls and gates that closed the moment darkness fell in an attempt to control the unruly populace. It was a flawed method, for if one who lived within the walls was outside when the gates slammed shut, they were locked out and forced to spend the night in the streets.

The merchants and families which had a better chance of surviving were closer to the border. There they could have the delight and privilege of a rich man or woman stopping to look at what those beneath them were offering up for sale. They fought and scrambled for these oh so precious homes where life was at least bearable. Those tucked almost safely in sturdy homes looked down on those who fit in neither category, scattered about the decrepit city in pockets.

Regardless of which district a person came from, a rich man stood out. They would always notice the clean hair, clear skin, perfectly pressed clothing, good posture, shoulders back to make them look taller. They would draw away at the stench of the poor as if a single touch could kill them. The poor enjoyed approaching the rich to taunt them.

So when a rich man walked through the poor side of town without flinching, it drew unnecessary attention. The residents of the poor town stood in the darkness to watch this unwelcome stranger stroll through their streets. He moved as if he knew every stone and brick. He kept his chin up, making those who approached the blond man shy away.

He did, however, try to avoid their prying eyes as he drew closer to his destination. He walked down an alley and waited for the feeling of being watched to fade before approaching a home that was falling apart where it stood. He raised his hand to knock.

"Hey, you!"

The man swore, jumping back. His shoulder knocked into his attacker, making him curl into himself. He heard a snicker which grated on his every nerve.

"Easy, Frenchie, it's just me."

"Alfred!" he glared up at the thief, furious at his friend for daring to do something so stupid. If his stunt had gotten them caught, there was no way either would get out of the situation alive.

"Francis, relax. The police are on the other side of the town," Alfred said. He clapped a hand on Francis' shoulder with a grin. "You look so guilty! Come on, you know you don't have to knock."

Alfred twisted the knob and shoved the door with his hip before strolling inside. He didn't wait for the door to close before beginning to talk to another person who was safely inside the house. Francis, however, hesitated. He looked around before stepping in and slowly closing the door behind him.


	2. Provider

_Updates should be every Wednesday._

"Mattie!" Alfred called, striding into the home. He bounded off to find Matthew while Francis stayed by the door, slipping his shoes off and taking the bag he held into the kitchen. He ignored the joyful sounds of the brothers in the living room and lifted the heavy bag, placing it on the counter. He winced when the surface seemed to shift beneath the weight. Pulling open the small fridge, he found it bare. He swore that one of these days he would kill Alfred for being so irresponsible. Matthew was home all day, he needed to eat more than just dinner when Alfred managed to bring something home.

He dug into the bag and started to fill one of the fridge's shelves with a few fresh goods he'd bought on his way to the boys' home. Matthew would appreciate the lettuce and meat more than Alfred would, but at least it was healthy and would keep them from getting sick. Neither could afford to get sick when they were barely surviving as it was.

He was about to close the door when a hand reached past his arm. He watched Alfred's hand close around a bruised apple and frowned up at the boy when he bit into it with a crunch.

"Lighten up!" Alfred laughed. Behind him, Matthew stood by the kitchen door wearing a tired, affectionate smile.

"You were supposed to buy food, Alfred."

"You already did it, Frenchie."

"I have a name."

"Francis, Alfred, please," Matthew said, stepping between them. "You're both late, what happened? I was worried about you, I wasn't sure if you ran into trouble."

"Me? Run into trouble?" Alfred grinned and threw an arm over his brother's shoulder, squeezing the boy against his side. "You should have seen it! They didn't stand a chance! There had to be at least ten of 'em trying to surround me! I blew the first two up with a gun I found..."

Alfred continued to brag while Francis searched the cupboards for something to cook with. He listened quietly to what the boy had to say, dismissing most of it as exaggerations meant to make the story thrilling and more heroic for the other boy's amusement. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, he found Matthew's eyes wide in utter delight tainted only slightly by the natural concern for his twin's safety and health. He felt a twinge of sadness for Matthew; the poor teen spent his time safely tucked away in the house where he passed the time alone while his brother robbed others for the money they so desperately needed. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the knife in his hand and the steady chopping of vegetables. He needed to find a way to get them out of the situation before he could worry about their happiness.

"... and she screamed for someone to save her from the evil robots!" Alfred shouted from where he stood on one of the wobbly chairs. Matthew steadied it carefully and gazed up at him.

"What did you do?"

"I did what any hero does! I ran over and shielded her from the bullets!"

"You do realize he's making this all up, non?" Francis interrupted, earning an indignant 'hey!' from Alfred. The quieter twin smiled and laughed.

"I like to pretend it's all real," he said to play along. "The hero saving the day to free us from poverty. It's a nice dream, eh?"

Alfred dropped down from the chair to pout at them both, his posture slouching in disappointment. He reached over to steal a handful of baby tomatoes from the cutting board and his miserable expression only increased in intensity when his hand was smacked away. He brightened up however when he was handed the plates and told to set the table.

"If neither of you get a job working, and I mean honestly, then you stand no chance of getting out of here," Francis began sternly, looking at the twin brothers he had grown close to. The boys looked like mirror copies but, besides their haircuts and eye colour being different, they were almost nothing alike in reality; Matthew looked down at the table and began to play with his fork while Alfred just shrugged and looked at the Frenchman as if he held all the answers.

"We're making it work, Franny."

"You can't rely on my income, mon ami. I can't guarantee that I'll always have work. And I need to support myself as well, or have you forgotten that?"

"Yeah I know your art job stinks-"

"It does not!"

"-but we can't even get a job."

"Mathieu can," Francis corrected. Alfred's mouth opened in protest until what the Frenchman had said truly entered his mind. The boys stared at him.

"He needs one of those plastic things to be able to even go into Rich Side!"

"The passes?" Francis produced one from his pocket and held it out to Matthew who gingerly took the thin green plastic card. He flipped it over in his hands, running a finger over the delicately carved 'Matthew Williams' along the bottom. His life could truly begin now that he had that card. He would be able to get a good job, work off their debt, save what money they could until they could afford another card to get Alfred working too, buy a house in Rich Side, and get out of Poor Side as quickly as possible. They wouldn't have to rely on Francis for help forever.

"You're not doing it," Alfred said, snatching the card from Matthew's hands. He glared at Francis. "You're gonna put Mattie in danger! You know what happens when we try to get into Rich Side."

"I know about the gangs," Francis hissed lowly, leaning forward. The walls had ears, he'd noticed long ago. He wouldn't trust that they were alone to keep them safe. "They'll beat you if you try without the legal means. But Alfred, I got the pass for Mathieu to keep him safe, not get him killed. They'll be put in jail if they touch you."

"I don't like it." Alfred handed the pass back to Matthew and watched as the younger twin put the precious object in his pocket. The timid boy then spoke up to soothe their fears.

"I'll be careful. Don't worry, eh? I'll be fine. I only have to walk to work and walk home. I can do that without getting hurt."

They sat in silence for a while, Francis eventually got up to serve their dinner while the boys came to their decision. They looked at each other, Alfred's eyes pleading for Matthew to see reason while Matthew's face slowly gained the set of determination. The quieter of the two was the first to break the near silence.

"I'm going to do it."

"Oui, and you're going to do well," Francis replied, setting a plate before each of the twins. He looked seriously at Alfred who responded with a dark glare. "He'll be picked up before and after work and escorted through the rich section of town. He won't go anywhere without someone to protect him, Alfred, and he'll be working for good employers."

"How do you know who he'll be working for?"

"Simple, I set up the interview with a girl I know well. He's almost guaranteed to get the job. All he has to do is listen and do exactly as I say."

"And you're sure he'll be safe?"

Francis sighed and nodded, moving toward the door. He grabbed his coat on the way out. Things would be fine if they trusted him. Maybe that was the issue. How many times could a person be pushed to the breaking point before they stopped trusting? He tossed a look over his shoulder, looking in the window to catch one last glimpse of the brothers settling down to eat before walking out into the falling darkness.


End file.
